


Iron and Ice

by Bread_and_Roses



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV), Game of Thrones (Video Game 2014), Game of Thrones Telltale Games
Genre: F/F, F/M, Game of Thrones References, House Bolton, House Forrester, House Lannister, House Stark, House Tyrell, Multi, The Long Night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-08-27
Packaged: 2019-07-03 03:49:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,509
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15810720
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bread_and_Roses/pseuds/Bread_and_Roses
Summary: Fate brings together Mira Forrester, a lady of the North trapped in King's Landing, and Beskha the Basilisk, a sellsword who bought her freedom in blood. The fight to survive is an old and familiar one, but the fight to live is something else entirely.





	Iron and Ice

Mira Forrester swatted at the back of her neck, finding nothing lingering there but a sheen of sweat. She had thought the tingling sensation she felt was a fly or some other sort of irritating insect that the reeking capital was filled with, but it could just as likely have been her nerves. She was always nervous these days. Always looking over her shoulder. Always feeling as though she were being watched. She had good reason to worry so.

“The finest of silks straight from Pentos, my lady!” A merchant eagerly shuffled out from behind his stall when he caught Mira’s eye lingering on the sheer green material. “Feel it, feel it!” he encouraged, holding out the wisp of cloth.

Mira reached out and allowed her fingertips to brush the material, lingering at the edges where she briefly rubbed it between her fingers. It was a lovely bit of cloth. It wasn’t so very long ago that she would have cared, would have been strolling through the market with Sera or another of Margaery’s handmaidens at her side, whispering and giggling and plotting their futures.

“It would suit you so well, my lady,” the merchant urged, his flattery eliciting a wry smile from Mira. “And it’s a bargain, too!”

“I’m sorry,” she replied wearily, squinting as the afternoon sun beat down on her face. “I cannot make such a purchase without my husband’s permission,” she explained.

“Ah! Well, he needn’t know, eh?” the merchant smiled conspiratorially, pushing the cloth toward her again. “Come now, it would make a dress worthy of your beauty, Lady…”

“Morgryn,” Mira answered regretfully. Then she shook her head. “Thank you, but I cannot. Good day.” Mira pivoted and strode away before the merchant could object again. Her footsteps quickened as she reached a set of low ascending stairs. She'd done nothing wrong, yet the lingering feeling of being watched quickly soured her afternoon walk. When she reached the shade of an orange tree, Mira stepped away from the flow of bodies and allowed herself a moment to rest. She took advantage of the small tree’s relief from the sun and scanned the crowd in the market below, trying to convince herself that it was only the heat and thirst which had set her on edge.

Then a figure in the crowd caught her eye. A tall woman stood near the booth Mira had just left. Her shoulders were broad, her arms bare and brown and strong. She was dressed in a the fashion of a warrior, with leather armor at her torso and intricately carved bracers adorning her wrists. Her boots reached her knees, and two swords were strapped to her back. She cut an imposing figure, but it wasn’t her stature or her unusual garb that caused Mira to gasp. The woman’s dark shoulder-length hair was pulled back from her face, revealing sharp features and numerous angry scars that were clearly visible even from a distance. She was staring directly at Mira.

Heart racing, Mira shrunk back further in to the shade of the orange tree. The woman who was watching her was a sellsword, that much was obvious. She’d expected something more subtle, like poison. Would Morgryn really have her struck down by a sellsword in the market in the middle of the day? _Oh yes, yes, he would._ The killer could likely escape with ease. The City Watch might ask questions, but if anyone suspected or even accused her husband, a revelation of Mira’s crimes and some coins dropped into the right hands would settle the issue. Lannister guards still convinced of her guilt in the murder of one of their own might even drink to her killer. Beyond that, no one would care. No would would avenge her. She was the last Forrester, after all.

Mira knew from the moment she said yes to Rickard Morgryn in the squalid cells of the Red Keep that her demise would still come eventually, even if her decision kept her head attached to her shoulders that day. She never thought it would be so soon, and certainly not before she’d birthed a Morgryn heir. He must have grown tired of waiting. Mira’s hand instinctively moved to her belly.

_I should have told him!_

It was too late. She could try to reason with the woman who’d been hired to kill her, try to make her understand that Lord Morgryn would change his mind if he knew she was with child. She knew there was little hope in that. Anyone would naturally assume she was lying to spare her own life, and she had no proof. Not yet. Her belly had swollen so little thus far that it would only be noticeable to one who knew her intimately. Mira grimaced as she imaged what Rickard would say if she could convince his hired killer not to dispatch her immediately.  _You’re just growing fat, you lying little whore. All the more reason to be rid of you._

The woman moved forward, pushing aside a man who stood in her path. Mira instinctively darted from the shadow of the tree and cut down a less crowded side street. She had come so far and done so many things to survive. She would not give up now, not without a fight. Skidding to a stop beside a fruit vendor, Mira pivoted to gauge how closely she was being followed. There was no one behind her but a few peasants and the fruit seller.

Quickly taking in her surroundings, she ducked down a tight alley and pushed far enough through it to be certain that she would not be easily visible from either end. She paused to catch her breath and compose a plan. Where could she go? Home was not safe, but there was nowhere else in the city she would be welcome. Some of Morgryn’s friends might offer her shelter, but they would ultimately see that she was returned home to her husband. There was Sera, but her old friend was a married woman now and would likely never do anything to incur the displeasure of her husband. She could, perhaps, extort Sera into helping her with the threat of revealing her true heritage to Lord Tarwick, but it would pain her to do so. Sera had always been a terrible liar anyway, which made her usefulness questionable. Still, reaching Sera was her only hope of survival for the moment. If she could just convince her old friend to shelter her until she could figure out a way to get out of the city…

Mira tried to calculate the best path toward the section of the city where Sera now lived as Lady Tarwick, but King’s Landing was not an easy place to navigate for any who had not grown up on its streets. Taking in a deep breath and gathering her courage, Mira bolted from her spot toward the other end of the alley. When she reached the opening to a wider street, she turned right and ran straight into a body. The impact knocked the breath from her and almost sent her to the ground, but a strong hand caught her by the arm.

“Mira Forrester?”

The voice was low and rasping, deep yet feminine. Mira looked up to find a scarred face and piercing, sea-green eyes peering down at her. Gasping, she struggled against the woman’s grip, ineffectively grabbing at the bracer on the woman’s wrist in an attempt to pry her hand off.

“Let go of me! Get away from me or I’ll scream!”

The woman’s brow furrowed, and she promptly clamped her other hand over Mira’s mouth before shoving her back into the alley, out of sight of any curious eyes.

“Don’t be an idiot,” the woman growled. “You scream and you’ll end up getting us both killed. Stop struggling!”

Mira curled back her lips and bit the hand that covered her mouth with all of the force she could muster. The woman pulled her hand back with a pained cry, shook it, and then grabbed Mira’s other arm and shook her.

“Seven fucking hells, stop it! I’m trying to help you, you bloody fool!”

Suddenly, it occurred to Mira that her assailant had used her maiden name. Forrester, she’d said. Not Morgryn. Mira stopped trying to wrench herself away from the woman’s grasp and tilted her head back to look up at her.

“Help me? Why would you want to help me? _Who are you?_ ”

“My name is Beskha,” the woman answered, loosening her grip on Mira’s arms. “I fought beside your brother Asher in Essos for many years. Your brother Rodrik sent me to find you. I’m going to bring you home.”

_Rodrik! Alive?_

Mira suddenly could not breathe. The hot, stifling air grew suffocating. The edges of her sight began to blur, and she felt the ground spin beneath her. She went limp in the arms that held her, and the last thing Mira heard before the world went dark was the woman called Beskha saying her name.


End file.
